


Exchange

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Sexual Harassment, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief meeting between a few select members of the Enterprise crew and a (very disrespectful) Orion slave trader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon's "Kirk has a meeting with an Orion slave trader to pressure the Orions to stop kidnapping and selling people into slavery. The Orion just insults him to his face, saying he'd make a great sex slave and going into detail about how the Orion would love to have him broken in properly, etc. Kirk keeps his composure throughout the meeting, but his crew has a little less restraint." prompt on the [Star Trek ID Kink Meme](http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/1695.html?thread=363935#t363935).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Gomtin, they call him, a bulging man with shocking green skin and broad shoulders, at least a head taller than Jim. He doesn’t have any hair, and his thick brows protrude over his dark eyes. He leans forward in his throne as Jim and his men approach. They stiffly kneel to bow. 

Gomtin nods them up, and Jim takes a seat at the edge of the dark circle, Spock on one side and Sulu on the other, security on either end. The floor is covered in a rich rug, the walls of the tent draped too low. The air smells heavily of meat and sex, but that’s not atypical for an Orion base. 

The Orion leans back in his gilded chair, gesturing for Jim to speak. 

“I am Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise, and on behalf of the Federation—”

“The Federation is sending me whores for offering now, are they?” Gomtin laughs. Two men stand behind him, equally as heavy-set and muscled, almost swamped in the shadows. The throne’s only two meters or so away from where Jim sits, but the stench of the shirtless men is pressing at his nostrils. Jim waits for Gomtin to finish laughing. 

“The United Federation of Planets would like to impress upon you the need for diplomatic relations. Particularly when it comes to kidnapping and selling into slavery members of our planets, which, as I’m sure you know, is considered a grave crime against the Federation itself, warranting Starfleet attention—”

Jim’s interrupted again by Gomtin slamming his fist on the arm of his throne. He climbs to his feet, his shadow cast far across the ground. Sitting on his legs with his hands on his knees, Jim feels inordinately small. But he has crewmembers to protect, and he holds himself strong, staring up at Gomtin challengingly. 

Gomtin nods and barks, “Stand, human.” So Jim climbs to his feet, tensing when the Orion approaches him. He can feel Spock and Sulu growing cagey at his sides. But they stay sitting down like they’re supposed to—this meeting is a warning, but it’s a diplomatic one, all the same. 

And there’s little room for Jim to be his usual reckless self with the amount of guards he’s seen roaming the grounds, stronger than Spock and fiercer than a phaser. Jim is still while Gomtin steps up to him, reaching out to grab his chin. Jim grunts but holds his head high. 

“Is this a joke?” the Orion hisses. “They want to _talk_ , so they send me a pretty piece of eye-candy like you? Species that come in blond fetch a pretty price, and I’m sure those baby blues must get you all sorts of attention back on your ship...”

Jim rides out the translator compliments, creepy though they might be, jaw stiff in Gomtin’s hands. He shows on his face that he isn’t intimidated, but Gomtin’s large hand slips down his throat, ghosting over his chest, gritty voice continuing, “Yes, I can see the _slut_ in you—you’d do well as my slave. You’d need to be broken, of course, corralled and restrained, but in time, I’m sure you’d learn to scream the proper name, bending to your master’s wishes...”

Jim glances out the corner of his eye. Spock is staring doggedly forward, not showing any sign of emotion, though his eyes _burn_. The security officer next to him has his fists clenched at his sides. 

The other security officer is gritting his teeth, and Sulu... Sulu is glaring _murderously_ at Gomtin, fingers flexing. 

“Yes,” Gomtin snarls, “A nice shape like yours was made to be bent... shame about that voice, but we could crack it, of course, perhaps even cut out your tongue... although, then your means of pleasing your master would be limited—such a shame... you know, I haven’t had a good human myself in some time—perhaps I’d like to take you over my knee and make you ride my fat cock.”

“Do you have an answer for the Federation?” Jim grits out, trying hard to keep his fists still. “Starfleet doesn’t take kindly to—”

Jim’s silenced by a sharp blow across his face, his head snapping around—his hand cuts instantly into the air, commanding his officers, “Stand down!” Because they’ve all jumped to their feet. 

“And you bruise so nicely, too!” Gomtin laughs. “A pretty collar around your neck and a good, thick leash, and I’d have you broken in no time, pissing on my command and only eating my leftovers off the floor—you’d look so good on my cock, I’m sure I could sell you for at least twenty bars of gold-pressed latinum, if not more, just with a simple display of ravaging your tiny body—”

“AHHH!” The next thing Jim knows, Sulu’s jumping out at Gomtin, his travel sword folding out in mid-air, sharp and slicing down. Gomtin grabs it in his bare hand, glaring down at Sulu and bending the sword back, which Sulu abandons in favour of fists.

Jim just barely manages to catch him in time, and he barks at the security, “Hold him back!”

Gomtin is laughing his head off, and Spock says very stiffly, “Captain, it is highly unlikely we will receive a satisfying answer.”

“Your answer is clear,” Jim tells Gomtin over his shoulder. He waits for the nod of dismissal, slipped through all the laughter, and he pushes the two security men and Sulu out first, wanting to get them as far from the other guards as possible. 

As Jim leaves the tent, the Orion calls, “Look at that ass move! You’re missing out, whore! For now, anyway—I must just decide to come up to that floating pile of scrap metal you call a ship and tug your pretty neck from your bed!”

Jim is already disappearing out the tent flaps, flushed and nearly trembling. But he doesn’t reprimand Sulu, and the next time the Enterprise faces Orion slavers, her phasers power up.


End file.
